Family Ties
by The Star Room
Summary: The Bats won't leave Gotham until it kills them.


We knew we ought to leave this town, but we never knew when and we never knew how.

They never could leave Gotham. It had its way of sticking needles into them, injecting them with something strong enough to keep them around. Like a dog that keeps cowering back to its owner, or an alcoholic who can't stay away from the liquor store.

Every one of them found some sort of reason to stay. Damian's was obvious-he was the Bat didn't leave Gotham.

For the others, it was a little less clear. Tim stayed because it was his home. He knew Gotham, loved it's niches and crannies, relished in its tunnels and the way it let him hide. Shadows were abundant in Gotham, and in the shadows Tim could play pretend for as long as he liked.

Jason stayed because some foul part of him still believed in vengeance for the rotting town that smelled like ash and human waste. That's what he told himself, anyway. Not because Gotham could be redeemed-Jason thought he knew enough of Hell to recognize a lost cause-but because it deserved someone to fight for it anyway. A real fight, with real weapons, not the half-assed morality checks Bruce had once tried to ensure, parading through Gotham's deepest underground as if the evil didn't bother him. As if he belonged with it.

There. That was it; the real reason. Jason stayed in Gotham because he belonged in Gotham. As for why that was, or what exactly that meant, he'd leave that up to the psychiatrists.

Dick stayed because he didn't know how to leave. Certainly he tried. The city would get into his bones every now and again, making him weighted and agitated, as if the polluted air filled his veins with swamp water. So he would try and leave, pack up his bags and go live with Wally for a month, or pay Roy a visit, or save a few lives on some foreign escapade where Taipei or Hawaii could clear his head. But he always came back. Every single time, he came back to Haly's greatest stopping point, the big black dot on the circus map, because Gotham wanted a show and who was Dick to deny it? He flew back to Gotham laughing, and the city danced beneath him.

And Stephanie? Stephanie stayed because, if she'd ever seen an underdog, it was Gotham. And she'd always liked rooting for the underdog.

They stayed until it killed them, and Gotham always killed its darlings.

They could have left. They had ample opportunities to leave. The JLA called them. The GL Corp wanted them. Even Barry asked Dick to come to Keystone, help research the Speed Force. But every time they declined. Gotham was their mother, and to their blood they were always loyal.

They chose to die fighting. By the time Damian whispered his last request to Stephanie, Gotham's crime rate had hit an all-time low. The sewers still stunk and the crime bosses still bred in their pits, but no more families were shot in alleyways. The Bats made sure of that.

There were no monuments built to commemorate Gotham's Finest. Only a few mourned the passing of a simple retired cop named Dick Grayson, and only distinguished scientists ever read Tim Drake's research journals. No one knew Jason Todd's name and only stockholders worried when Damian Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, drew his final breath. Stephanie Brown gained a few nods, seeing as she'd starred in a TV show or two, but even then it was simply stated "tragedy" in the tabloids, and the whole shebang was forgotten.

All five of them were buried in Gotham, because they could never leave. Not now, not ever.

Yet Dick was not bitter when the blood loss finally made his head fuzzy and full of colors. All he could think of was the girl on the corner of 8th and Broadway, his girl, his little girl, who would grow up safe, safer now more than ever. He had seen to that, and he had won. She would have a life now. Barbara's little girl would have a life now. All he could see was that red hair and soft smile.

Jason did not wish for Lazarus when the waves consumed him. He accepted his finish, his grand finale, and found himself wondering why he'd been angry all those years. It didn't make sense. The boy with the baseball bat - the boy he'd saved from corrupted police men - he would grow up to be a life-saving surgeon now, instead of a torturing drug king, and hell, wasn't that kind of the point? Wasn't that the point?

Tim was not afraid when old age took its toll. He wasn't afraid like he thought he'd be. Instead, he thought of Robin, of the wily dark-skinned teenager he'd taught to be a hero, and he was satisfied. Nell and her son would keep Gotham on its toes. Nell would keep Gotham safe. Nell would never leave this town, because no one ever could. But she'd be happy here - of that Tim was sure.

Stephanie was not desperate when Damian's heart monitor finally sounded that one, unending beep. His eyes were open and he was looking at her, and somehow they were both thinking the same thing - _we did good here, didn't we? We really did._

The Bats never could leave Gotham. Their spirits and the duties stayed, and while the people of Gotham forgot them, the city never could.

They were a part of each other, and they always would be.


End file.
